Pilgrimage
by nakayu
Summary: Miles Edgeworth pays his father a long-overdue visit.


_Disclaimer: I don't own Ace Attorney/Gyakuten Saiban or any of its characters. Capcom has a funny thing about not hiring college freshmen._

* * *

The temperature hung at that magic number where it was too warm for snow, but cold enough that each drop of rain felt like an icy dagger when it hit you, so you almost wished for a blizzard. Most sensible people were inside trying to keep warm. But that was exactly why Miles Edgeworth had chosen this particular day for his visit. True, most people wouldn't give him a second look, but he couldn't shake the feeling of being watched - and judged. Two years hadn't erased his reputation or the memories of that trial. They knew what he had done. What they said or thought didn't normally bother him, but on these rare occasions he felt strangely vulnerable. Everyone could see him as he made his way to the cemetery - not so unlike the prodigal son returning to his father in disgrace. He tried not to think about it. Still, he knew he could count the number of visits he'd made to his father's grave on one hand.

Recent events had prompted his pilgrimage. Ever since he had defended that girl, he had felt the urge to come back here. The irony hadn't escaped him. In a perfect world, there wouldn't have been anything unusual about Miles Edgeworth standing behind the defense's desk. Instead, he had experienced a strange bout of vertigo upon walking into court. Was he even in the right place? He felt as though he had been placed into someone else's body. Would he see himself behind the prosecution's desk? No, there was Franziska, snapping (using both voice and whip) at some hapless court worker. She noticed Miles as she rolled up her whip. His face must have betrayed his bewilderment, because she frowned back in confusion. He looked away, embarrassed. The sharp crack of a whip brought him back to attention.

"Don't expect any special treatment today, Miles Edgeworth!" said Franziska, a sly grin on her face.

"I wouldn't dream of it." Miles smirked back at his sister.

To onlookers, it was just a playful taunt between siblings. Miles knew better. No doubt Franziska had been as unnerved as he. Over the years he had learned to read her - and vice versa. So often she said the opposite of what she really felt. There was a language only they spoke and only they could understand.

"_I'm sorry."_

"_Don't be."_

So here he was. The rain had slacked to a drizzle now and a fine mist hung over the cemetery. He cursed himself for not bringing an umbrella as he shivered, but whether the rain was really to blame, he couldn't be certain. Pulling his coat closer, he walked on. His father's grave was next to a seemingly ancient oak tree. Through the fog he could see its branches reaching for the heavens, as though it might retrieve some of the souls whose graves it sheltered.

Miles walked slowly towards the giant oak. A sense of isolation began to creep in as he neared his destination. The steady drone of the rain was strangely hypnotic, making him feel as though he had left dreary Los Angeles and had stepped into another realm. Suddenly a voice managed to cut through the rain.

_What sort of fool goes out in this weather? ...Well, besides myself, I suppose._

"...if you remember me. Edge- Uh, Miles and I were classmates in fourth grade."

_It can't be. _

Miles froze. Phoenix Wright was standing under an old tree. An old oak tree. _That_ old oak tree. He followed his gaze to the ground.

_Surely not._

"So, um, I guess you're wondering why I'm here. Or maybe you already know. I don't really know how the whole ghost thing works."

_Good God, Wright._

"Well, a few days ago, an old...friend of mine was in trouble. You see, she was arrested for murder. I knew she was innocent and I was going to defend her, but...well, there was kind of an accident. I, uh, fell off a bridge...and into a river. I just caught a bad cold, but apparently Larry - Butz, you remember? - called E- Miles in a bit of a, well, _panic_. So he came out here as soon as he could. I was still feverish when I saw him - I honestly don't remember much. But I was so worried about Iris - my friend - I ended up asking Miles to defend her. I'm still kind of amazed he actually did it. If he had been caught, they would have disbarred him on the spot."

He paused, taking his hands out of his coat pockets and rubbing them together vigorously. For the first time, Miles realized how close he was standing. If Wright turned just the slightest bit... He backed up slowly and crouched behind some shrubbery.

_What am I doing? This is ridiculous...damn Wright._

"I didn't see the trial myself, but it must have been impressive. The case was pretty airtight. By all accounts, the trial shouldn't have taken more than a day. But somehow he did it, and the next day I was able to take over. Iris got off, by the way. We found the real killer." He paused. "You know, when we were kids, all Miles could ever talk about was you and how much he wanted to be a defense attorney like you were. That didn't work out, but I think he still uses you as a guide of sorts. I guess what I'm saying is, you should really be proud of him. I know I wouldn't have been able to save Iris without his help. I tried to thank him, but you know how he is. He started going on about how stupid I was for running onto a burning bridge in the first place. Which I guess is kind of stupid," he laughed sheepishly. "I guess I should be going then. I just wanted to tell you that. Miles may have become a prosecutor, but you can definitely tell he's your son."

With a wave of his hand to the stone below him, Phoenix Wright turned and left. Only later did it occur to Miles how lucky he was that Wright had left in the opposite direction. He hadn't had time to plan an escape. For a few moments he remained behind the shrubbery, completely motionless. When he finally forced himself to move, his steps were slow. Wright's words played over and over in his mind.

"_You should really be proud of him_."

Slowly his mind registered that he was nearing the headstone.

"_You can definitely tell he's your son."_

He stopped.

"I guess you know why I'm here."


End file.
